Aftermath
by Libquedation
Summary: The survivors have made it out of Mercy City and to the nearest military outpost via helicopter. However, the one question remains; will it all get back to normal? Was rated M.
1. The End

The screams faded and bodies of undead littered the roof on top of Mercy Hospital. The faint whirr of a helicopter could be heard, and it was steadily getting louder. Francis looked around wildly, searching for the only missing survivor.

A faint moan echoed along the roof. Bill and Louis exchanged glances, and Francis leapt off the landing pad. He dashed to the sound, dual pistols held tight and at the ready. His breath came in gasps, and he cussed wildly under his breath at the sight before him. Zoey lay, bleeding from multiple gashes and cuts, surrounded by the bodies of the infected. Her arms raised, quivering, as she heard his footsteps, then dropped to the ground as she recognized the sound. She tilted her head back, letting it hit the floor, eyes barely open as pain throbbed through her body.

"Francis." At the sound of her pain filled voice, his rage and overwhelming worry grew. She was almost dead. Shoving his pistols in his pockets, after flicking the safety on of course, Francis bent down and looked over Zoey's dying body.

"I'm here, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Rescue is here." Slinging the med pack off his back, Francis rummaged through it, yanking out pain pills and bandages. Slipping the wadded up bandages onto the worst gashes, Francis proceeded to repack the med bag.

"do you think your ass can stand?" His voice full of concern made Zoey look up confused.

"I-I doubt it." She struggled to pull herself up, muscles screaming in agony, broken bones crunching together, fresh blood welling up as she moved.

"Francis! Zoey! Helicopter's here! Get your asses over here!" Bill's voice echoed over the hospital's roof. Francis glanced over his shoulder, and without any thought, picked Zoey up bridal style, her head limply falling against his shoulder. Francis left the guns, not caring for anything but that Zoey made it on the helicopter.

Bill and Louis stood on the helicopter, guns cocked and perched at eyelevel, covering the other two, scanning for any leftover infected. Francis ran, and leapt with all the force in him onto the helicopter. He fell to his knees, but kept Zoey tight in his arms, careful not to jostle her.

Bill shut and locked the doors, and they felt the helicopter shudder and turn away from the hospital, where they could see new zombies, as they looked like the horror movie's main stars, rush onto the roof, literally risking their lives to jump after them.

Francis slumped against the helicopter's side, cradling Zoey to his chest. Her breathing came in faint gasps, and her blood seeped through his vest.

"Don't leave me Zoey." Her deep blue eyes stared up at Francis.

"I won't. I have no intention of dying. But you better not leave either." a small smile curled the corners of Francis's mouth, but it didn't reach his blue eyes.

" I never will Zoey. I can't. I promise you, I will never leave you. Ever. Just don't die on me." His voice choked up, something no one had ever heard before. Bill took that as an initiative to move to the front of the helicopter, away from the two, Louis close behind him.

Zoey hadn't expected the huge biker with tattoo's scarring his arms to get teary eyed at a few words, but no one saw this side of Francis unless they had his love. "I won't." Her eyelids fluttered, covering the blueness for a few moments.

"Zoey! Zoey, don't die now! Hell, I said DON'T die." he practically shouted.

"Francis." Bill suddenly was faced with a glare almost every man would shrink under. "Let her sleep. It will slow blood loss once her heart starts beating slower. Relax. She is not going anywhere." Francis continued to glower at the old, graying man.

"Fuck." He realized Bill was right. He leaned down to Zoey's ear. "Sleep darlin'. You deserve it for knocking that hunter offa me." he felt her breathing slow, and her eyes closed, body relaxing.

Francis absentmindedly stroked her sweaty hair away from her face, fingers shaking as the adrenaline wore off. New pains became more apparent, from the harsh stab in his ribs with every breath, the bruises that were forming, the cuts that now stung.

Francis's eyes began to close on their own accord. He jolted awake, not wanting to sleep. He let his mind drift off to the strange company the survivors were.

The ex military officer who had served in Vietnam, killed his own brother. He had a wife, and a kid, and a dog as a matter of fact. But he did love to smoke, and stamped out a cigarette as Francis was day dreaming. Bill was the hard one, the one with no sympathy, but a great respect for the other immune.

The business man who had a gorgeous fiancé and carried a picture of her in his pocket for good luck. He had been at work for IBM when the infection hit. He was also one of the few immune. At first he had been weak, almost shooting Francis a few times whilst trying to kill an infected, but Francis held a great deal of friendship for this man. He had killed one of the few Tanks as it was trying to kill Francis.

Francis was just a biker, who worked for as a mechanic before the infection. He had plenty of one night stands, once with his brother's fiancé, instantly making his brother hate him. He never got to say sorry.

And finally, Zoey. The only girl, a senior in college before the infection hit who worked at a Target in the suburbs. She had her mom and dad and brother all turned practically in front of her. She had almost been killed by her own family.

They had all met in a bar about ten miles outside of the hospital…

"_And we strongly advise any body who is not infected to stay indoors, and not antagonize anyone who is infected…" Francis stomped over to the small television and shut it off. Bill dealt out another hand of poker to the smart business man Louis. The other man was slightly coughing, his face extremely pale. _

_Zoey sat alone at the bar, throwing back another shot of beer. Her books were spread around her, for this bar was one that hardly got any business. Francis walked back to the poker table, and cussed at his hand. _

_A thump followed by a groan caused Zoey to look up. The pale man was slumped over, breathing ragged and his skin was changing to look like gangrene had taken over his whole body. The other three had backed quickly away from the table as they all stared at the transforming bartender on top of the poker cards._

"_Is he okay?" Desperation was shot through Zoey's voice. This was not natural. _

"_Stay away girlie. No don't!" Zoey stood up and lifted the guy's head up, to be faced with black eyes staring at her like she was meat. A wicked snarl ripped from its chest, and it shot out a hand to encircle her throat._

"_Fucker eat metal." She faintly heard, and suddenly hit the ground, sucking in oxygen like there was no tomorrow. Brains and blood were splattered across her small frame. _

"_I guess we will find out if any of us are immune." the biker, Francis intones, considering they were all splattered in gore."_

"_I guess we will." _

"We are coming up on the base. I suggest you all hold on to something." the pilot yelled over the chopper's blades. Francis was jolted awake, and his grip on the limp body of Zoey tightened considerably. The helicopter was banged around in the wind for a few dreadful moments.

Francis felt the rough landing, and stood up, ducking as he was too tall, and jumped out of the chopper to the landing pad.

The next few minutes were hell. First, Zoey was ripped from a wildly cursing Francis to be taken into surgery. Then he was separated from Bill and Louis to be scrubbed down and screened for the virus. He was roughly pushed into a "safe room" as the military dicks called it. They didn't want anyone who could possibly become an infected near the center of base.

"Fuck those little mindless punks. I should go out there and give them a piece of their own damn medicine…"

"Francis calm down." At the sound of his voice, he whirled around to see Bill sitting at a table nursing a cigarette. Louis sat across from his, dealing out a hand of cards. Francis bolted to the three other doors, and upon finding nothing but two bedrooms and a bathroom, he stalked angrily over to the table and slammed his fist down.

"Where the hell is Zoey?" he yelled, worry radiating off of the biker. Bill took a long drag.

"Still in surgery. A doctor stopped by not to long ago to tell us it could be another few hours. Almost every rib was cracked or fractured, her ankle is sprained, left wrist is fractured, got bruises alighting her whole body, and a lot of gashes they have to clean up, so why don't you sit your ass down son and play a hand of poker with us. We are all worried about Zoey, but pacing around, hitting things and cursing will not make it better. Sit." It was an order, even Francis could hear military authority kicking into Bill's voice. He yanked a chair across the floor, startling Louis, and banged down on the table. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter that was within arm's reach, uncorked it, and took a long ass swig.

"Might as well. Deal me in."

**This is my first Left 4 Dead story, but it has been itching my mind for some time, ever since I started playing as a matter of fact. No scratch that, ever since I became addicted. Sorry if anyone was a little out of character, especially in the end when they don't seem so concerned about Zoey, but bear with me. This story will get good, as long as you, yes YOU, review. Gracias. **


	2. Realization

Bill took another long drag on his cigarette and looked at the door to the second bedroom. The whiny soldiers of this generation had brought Zoey in not so long ago. She had looked awful, stitches marring her pretty face, bandages wrapped up and down the length of her body, her face pale and grey. The pansies had wheeled her in on a stretcher, and now were hooking her up to some small vital monitors and such.

Bill puffed the smoke expertly out of his nose and mouth. His gaze was adverted to Louis, who had fallen asleep sprawled across the table, an empty whiskey bottle lying next to his fingers.

A small grunt of anger called Bill's gaze to land upon Francis. He was pacing in front of the gray, metal door. He was growling words of frustration, anger. Bill merely grunted in laughter, taking another puff of the cigarette.

"Chill out son. You'll get to see her soon enough." Francis shot Bill a dirty look, and scowled.

"Shut the fuck up old man, unless you intend to die a slow death at my hand, not the Smoker's." Bill turned away his face angrily. He had almost been strangled to death not so long ago by a nasty infected they had dubbed 'the Smoker' for its horrendous cough, hideous tumors on his face, and the long, boil covered tongue. It had taken him across the long stretch if highway in the middle of Mercy City, and up about a story or two. Francis had been the one to kill the bastard.

The door to the bedroom opened, and they all leapt to their feet, including Louis. Three soldiers and a doctor walked out. "She cannot do much, and right now she is still unconscious, but she can still hear you, so be mindful of what you say." With that, the three pansies were gone, the door locked tight.

Francis was at the door in record time, but Bill stood up and placed a hand on the doorknob. "Let Louis and me go first. That way, you get as long as you damn want with Zoey." Francis looked like he wanted to rip Bill to little pieces, but after a few minutes, he let his hands drop. He stalked around and practically fell into the chair stationed outside the door.

"I'll be keeping time." Bill huffed and spun the handle, stepping into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He took a long look at Zoey.

Under the hospital gown, his military trained eye saw that her ribs were tightly taped up. Her left leg was propped up, the whole foot and ankle wrapped up, an ice pack balanced precariously on top of her ankle. Both wrists had braces tightly attached to them. Stitches lined her left cheek, her arms, and Bill knew around the rest of her body as well. Bruises made the picture complete.

"Hey Zoey. I know you can hear me even while knocked out. Just wanted to say a few things. First of all, never, ever, ever go after me again. I can take care of myself in a horde. Secondly, just wanted you to know that you are like my daughter, even though I met you about a month ago. I hold respect for you, cause you are the only girlie. Finally, Francis has something to tell you. Get your ass outta bed soon." With that, Bill stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Louis was up in a second. Bill cocked an eyebrow at this rushed response, but sat down to ponder while smoking. "Pull your chair up Francis. I have a feeling Louis will take longer than I did." Francis obeyed for once, surprising the shit out of Bill. Francis never listened, especially to Bill. Francis cupped his face in his hands, elbows on the table.

"God Bill. If anything, I should be the one lying in that bed, not Zoey. She hasn't done anything to deserve this shit. I got out of there with barely a scratch, and she is the one who ends up like this? That is so not fair on so many levels." At the pain in Francis's voice, Bill reached forward and placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Are you in love with Zoey?" At those words, Francis looked up in shock.

"No, I mean yes, I mean I don't know! I have never been in love before. I had one night stands, never made love, just had sex! I think the only thing I loved before this was my motorcycle and my shotgun."

Bill leaned back in his chair and laughed at the face on the biker. "Son, I can tell you love the girl. Always, no matter what, you would be the first one to patch her up, the first one to save her ass, the one who would protect her during a horde. You do love her."

Francis leaned back in his chair and pondered that. A loud bang filled the room as the feet of his chair hit the ground. "I love Zoey."

"No shit Sherlock." I took a drag on my cigarette. Louis came out of the room then, looking better than he had before.

"You don't love her too do you?" Francis pulled Louis up and pushed him against the wall.

"Hell no man! She is my baby sister. I do not love her like you do!" Francis let Louis go, and he strode to the doorway of Zoey's room.

"I'm going to be in here for a while. And do not worry old man, I am not going to rape her. That is sick and wrong, and I would never do anything to harm Zoey. I love her." With that, Francis closed the door, leaving Bill and Louis to their card game.

**Short I know, but I am trying to update most my stories today, and on the next update I want it to be Francis centered as he talks to Zoey. Review please. **


	3. Falls into Place

**This is probably going to be the last chapter, because heck, I don't want to be writing ten stories at once, and I got this one and two others to finish before school starts. This chapter will be written in Francis POV, and please review my last chapter. Thank youuuuu. Probably going to be a short chapter just FYI. **

**FRANCIS**

My hand was still on the doorknob as I looked around the room that they had set up Zoey in. It was small, gray, all together really damn boring. The bed was pushed against the far wall, there was a chair next to it, a few monitors behind the chair. The beeping was going to give me a massive headache later, I knew it.

Then there was Zoey. My heart hurt as I looked at her. Bandages were all over her body, her leg propped up. Both wrists were in a brace, and she had stitches in multiple places on her face and arms.

"God, Zoey. Is there one place you didn't get hurt?" I whispered as I plunked down in the chair, my heart thumping.

This was weird. I was about to confess my love for an unconscious chick in the middle of a vampire-er, zombie apocalypse.

"Uh, hi." Lame. I am not a damn talkative person. "Listen, Zoey, I know you can hear me cause the doc said your brain was awake just your bod isn't or something like that, so let me talk.

"I don't know how, or even if it is rational," Yes, I know large words. Keep the surprise to a minimum. "But I love you Zoey. There, I said it, now wake up."

I waited.

And waited.

And waited for what seemed forever, but really was only maybe fifteen minutes.

And within those fifteen minutes, I had somehow grabbed Zoey's hand and had been holding it, staring off into space for quite some time, when I felt her finger twitch.

"Zoey?" I asked, hopeful. Her mouth opened a bit and she moaned.

"Water." She croaked, and I obliged, basically jumping to my feet, my heart beating wildly I was so happy. "Thanks." She whispered.

"No problem."

"So you love me?"

Who would have thought that bad ass Francis would be capable of blushing at four words? Not me for sure.

"Um, uh, yeah…"

"Really? Why me?" The dreaded question.

"You're you."

"That's not an answer." I growled in frustration, my face flaming.

"Cause you're different! Cause you're you! You are strong, you are a sexy fighter, you are not afraid of me, which is a first, and cause I just do! I never thought I would fall for anyone after high school! Hell, every woman I have been with, I have has one night stands and shit with, but Zoey! I realized I wouldn't be able to let you out of my life! I love you!" I said with plenty of emotion, hell, even waving my arms around a little bit.

"Well, good thing is that I love you too Francis. Figured it out while in dreamland." My mouth gaped open at that.

"So now what?" If she could have shrugged, I know she would have.

"Let's just see where this zombie apocalypse takes us."

**ONE YEAR LATER**

"Zoey!" I called, looking around for my wife.

Let me run it down for you. We were married, we still spent countless hours looking for survivors in the Northeast, we weren't planning on having a kid for years, and zombies still run amuck, and we fought alongside Louis; Bill was usually our helicopter pilot.

Yes, he can fly.

"Here!" I spun around, the heavy duty Marine armor clanking a bit. I sprinted to where Zoey was desperately trying to hold off a horde single handedly, offering my help, Louis coming in not much later.

"Hello? Anyone still alive?" Louis cried after the horde was wiped out by a cleverly placed grenade from one of our fellow Marines, Jason.

"Building's empty. Let's go." Crackled over the annoying com in my ear.

"Roger." Man, how I hate this job, but considering it was this or cleanup/make more houses, I would rather be doing this.

Let's just say, things did not magically go back to normal, but life is ten times better with friends at your side, for once.


End file.
